The Plains of Sacae
by Herr Wozzeck
Summary: Karla is dead. Bartre finds himself on the plains with Karel instead of the woman he loved. But will it make a difference on his happiness? Yaoi KarelBartre


Here's my crack pairing response for FESS! You know where that leads...

Anyways, I do have to warn you here; there is a yaoi lemon towards the end of the story. If you don't want to read it, you can turn to the FESS version where the lemon is removed, but it should be easy to tell when the lemon comes. You know the rest.

Disclaimer? Sure.

None of the trademarks used here belong to me. FE 7 and its characters belong to Nintendo. I own nothing. (Yay! My first FE fic without an OC! Whoo!)

Anyways, here's the story. Enjoy!

* * *

The Plains of Sacae

The flames of a funeral pyre leapt in the moonless night, the stars failing to provide their brightened cheer as if in mourning of the sight at hand.

Two figures were silhouetted against the backdrop of the brilliant fire as it raged on in the mournful night. The first was a rather large man with beige-colored hair and blue suit of blue which fit tightly around the burly man's muscles. The hair was contained by a metallic headband that went around the man's forehead. The war-hardened face had softened to a tragedy that had worked itself into his being.

The second was a rather lithe figure, with long black hair that flowed down his left side and a robe native to Sacae. A sword was seen draping the man's side, and his usually calculating face was draped with mourning for a fallen sister.

The larger man went by the name of Bartre. The lithe man was named Karel.

And the woman who was lying in the bed of flaming trees was named Karla.

A tear ran down Bartre's cheek as he thought about how quickly he had fallen in love with the Sacaen swordswoman; and how quickly that love was taken away from him.

It had all started with a rivalry long before the war that Elibe had just finished fighting. The two warriors had met in the plains of Sacae, and they had been trying to outdo each other for the longest time.

And then, the war had begun. And after an encounter in a coliseum towards the end of the war she had followed along with Bartre and gone with the army he was part of to fight the ultimate enemy.

Along with this, their rivalry turned into a love story, and it grew intense to the point that both parties were considering the ultimate union.

And then, the final battle happened.

And then the damn morph had to plant his sword into Karla's breast.

Bartre could recall every detail of the moment Karla had died. In rage, Bartre had driven his axe into the morph that had ended Karla's life. In despair, he had bent down and looked into Karla's blank eyes as the blood flowed freely from the wound that had opened on her skin. In worry, he had yelled out to the local healer.

And in horror, he watched as Karla's blank stare bore into his being as her heavy exhalations stopped.

She had died in Bartre's arms.

And her corpse was burning in a fire that lit the night sky with a light that flared brilliantly in the night sky.

To Bartre it was very ironic. The light that would normally be so friendly to a man was the fire that was seeing the end of a beautiful person and which should have given life instead of doing away with what had used to be life.

Bartre was normally a very strong man in the face of hardship; but this time, he felt he could not control himself.

As the fire raged on, he felt himself fall on the ground and sob uncontrollably. He could not help it, really.

As he cried, he felt arms wrap around his shuddering figure.

The arms that wrapped around him were those belonging to Karel.

* * *

Bartre looked out onto the sea's powerful control of itself as the waves crashed one right into the other. 

It had been two days since Karla had been burned on her final bed. Bartre had scattered her ashes over the sea the day before, and now the group was returning home on the ship that had carried the warriors to their final battleground.

It was surreal. Bartre was going home. The war had finally ended. The warrior knew he should have been happy to go home; he knew he should have been happy simply because he would not have to find a venerable excuse to justify his meaningless killings on the battlefield.

However, certain aspects of the whole thing seemed to be dampened without Karla's presence in him. Without her, Bartre felt a great hole in his being desperately waiting to be filled by any kind of love.

Most of all, Bartre missed the feeling of being with somebody who shared an interest in bettering her combat skills just to be competitive. It really was a harsh world, as Bartre had seen countless times, and being competitive on the battlefield could have been the difference between life and death for many a soldier who had fallen.

In the end, however, ambition ended up doing away with many a soul as well. Nergal had ambition, and he was killed by Durandal. Lord Darin had ambition, and he had died in battle.

The one instance of ambition that Bartre felt would never leave him alone was that of Karla's ambition. She was a beautiful, sweet woman; and ambition did away with her too.

It was all very ironic. The one thing that would make a person better would also be the thing that would end up leading to their death in the end. To Bartre, it only made the pain of losing her worse.

To attempt to keep his mind away from Karla's death, he looked out of the window of the pirate ship he was riding to take his mind off of things.

But no matter how many waves the warrior looked at, Karla would pop into his mind incessantly like a hornet that would never leave him alone until it stung his mind with its venomous barb.

Time was the only one who would tell when this hornet would be chased away by a force that would have mercy on Bartre's plight.

Around this time, Bartre heard a knock on the door. He perked his head up for a second.

"Come in," said the large man rather nonchalantly.

The creak of a door opening sounded in the room as the door gave way to the lithe man who had been standing with Bartre at the funeral pyre. His usually sly expression was replaced with that of sorrow. The warrior could not really blame Karel; after all, Karla was his sister, and even a man as cold as Karel usually was could have a melted heart upon the death of a sibling.

"Hello, Bartre," said Karel. The tone of voice was considerably more solemn than Bartre was used to hearing from Karel, and for good reason. "I believe you know what I am here for…"

"I understand," said Bartre. "Come. Sit."

The usually gruff command came out rather softly and infinitely tender, and under this pretense Karel closed the door behind him and sat on the mattress of the bed that Bartre was sitting on as well.

"You have not been socializing very much with the rest of us lately," said Karel. "They understand that we were both close to Karla, but they believe that talking about it is the best option for the two of us."

"What do they know about loss?" asked Bartre. "I was closer to Karla than any of the others believe I was. How could they comfort me then?"

"They say letting things out helps the consolation process a little," said Karel.

"I don't know about that, Karel," said Bartre. "It's still difficult to move on from her death. She was such a good woman, and forgetting about her won't be good for anybody."

"I know," said the Sacaen swordsman as he faced Bartre straight in the eye. "However, I believe it is best if we remember her for all the good things she did in life as opposed to remembering her death. I also believe it is fair to live up to a promise given before the death."

"I never promised her anything, though," said Bartre. "We were so much in love promises weren't necessary."

Karel nodded in response.

"I understand," said Karel. "Me? I promised her I would never kill a soul in a whimsical state. I plan on living up to that promise, and I believe that by following the promise, I have begun the route of consolation."

"I don't know…" said Bartre. "When Karla was still alive, we were planning to stay in Sacae for the rest of their lives. I want to go, but without her it is like fulfilling an empty promise."

"Would you want to go with me then?" asked Karel. "I might provide the company needed to fulfill a plan of yours."

The warrior looked at Karel to see no deception in the swordsman's eyes.

Bartre looked down at the floor and nodded.

Karel nodded in response, and stood up.

"So that will be your promise to Karla," said Karel.

"Yes," said Bartre.

Karel nodded and left the room.

Bartre turned back to the window, which now showed an orange sun slowly disappearing behind the vast ocean. Eventually, the sun sank and the sky was dark.

* * *

It was night when Bartre was finally ready to go to Sacae with a new companion in tow. The horse was ready, his axe was strapped to his back, and he was standing under the tree waiting for Karel to arrive. 

However, the swordsman was failing to show up. True, the two of them had set a time for leaving which was two hours after Bartre had begun standing there, but Karel told Bartre he might be arriving there earlier. Therefore, Bartre decided to throw caution to the wind and arrive first.

Bartre assumed he had been waiting for about ten minutes since he had arrived there. Karel was usually sly in his ways, so he might have said it to remind the warrior to be prepared for anything, but since they agreed to go together in the ship taking the army back from the island of Valor the warrior had begun to trust Karel a little more.

As he stood there waiting, Bartre could not help but notice the fact that the night sky was jet black without anything to color it. The moon had begun to creep into its crescent from its dark age, but that was the only light other than the torch that the warrior was holding in his left hand. The stars must have been mourning Karla's death for a while, since they had not shown their brilliant white cloaks since she had died.

Bartre was wondering why this was when the soft pat of footsteps on grass rung a series of soft notes in the air.

The warrior looked down from his perch. Where he had expected to find Karel, however, he found his good friend Dorcas walking up the hill instead. The elder warrior's plebian clothing and somewhat frayed hair was a testament to simple origins, accompanied by squinted eyes that could pierce through six layers of stone at the same time.

"Dorcas?" asked Bartre. "What might you be doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," said the other warrior.

"Oh, I'm fine," said Bartre. "I'm waiting on Karel to show up so I can travel to Sacae."

"I see," said Dorcas. "I would suggest you keep on your guard."

"Hm?" asked a somewhat confused Bartre.

It was not like Dorcas to say such things. After all, he was a simple man, and usually the thought of his wife Natalie was crowding his every action. Thus, for Dorcas to say something like what he just told Bartre was very confusing.

"Why would you say that?" asked Bartre.

"That man will change you," said Dorcas. "I can sense it somehow. I don't know how he will change you or what he will change you to, but rest assured he will change you."

"Dorcas, what are you talking about?" asked the younger warrior. "How can you tell?"

"I can see many things in people," said Dorcas. "Do you truly want to go to Sacae with him?"

"Yes," said Bartre. "I made a promise to my deceased Karla that I would go to Sacae no matter what. And if I have to go with Karel, so be it."

A short silence came through at this time. Dorcas nodded slowly.

"Then there is no avoiding what will happen," said Dorcas.

"I shall overcome what will happen," said Bartre. "No matter what, I will overcome anything that gets in my way."

"I see," said Dorcas as he nodded a little. "In that case, I shall leave. Goodbye, Bartre."

"Goodbye, Dorcas," said Bartre.

The two men engaged in another handshake before parting for the last time. Dorcas then walked down the hill.

Bartre waited another ten minutes before hearing footsteps again. This time, Karel's face was illuminated in the dim lighting.

"I've been waiting for a while," said Bartre.

"I can see that," said Karel. "Now it is only a matter of leaving this place forever. Shall we?"

"Yes," said Bartre. He untied the horse from where he had tied it earlier that night. He then helped Karel onto the horse's back before climbing on himself.

Karel, who was sitting in the front of the horse, kicked it into motion, and then they were on their one-way journey to the plains of Sacae.

* * *

The brook raced over the numerous grains of sand that served as a base for the bed, a stray rock occasionally tumbling along with the grains. 

Bartre was lying on his side watching the sight of the pebbles as he lay basking in the slow sunrise. Karel had been getting up pretty late the past few days, but Bartre had no problem with it so long as the swordsman was within sight.

The duo had crossed the border into Sacae three days ago. They had to rely on the village taverns for support, but the rare times they slept in endless seas of grasses that covered the plains Bartre loved it. The insect bites were oftentimes bad, but otherwise the beauty of the plains captured his heart.

It was everything he expected it to be. Karla's descriptions did the plains no justice, as he could clearly see.

However, he wished that he could have gone with Karla. Karel was more than a good substitute, but it was not the same, since Bartre could not admit any feelings to Karel.

Actually, there was something going on in his mind where the warrior's heart would shudder in pleasure upon seeing Karel at peace with himself. Bartre immediately recognized this as the beginning of a love, but he knew the feelings towards Karel were wrong.

After all, he knew very well that love between two men was forbidden in any culture. He could not bring himself to accept any affection towards Karel, and in so doing he felt himself beginning to crumble like the dry earth against a wind.

"Morning." Karel's voice rose from the ground like a mist.

"Morning," Bartre responded. The same greeting had been adhered to upon their arrival in Sacae.

"How was your sleep?" asked Karel.

"I had the dream about Karla again," said Bartre.

"That dream?" asked Karel. "She kept on dying?"

"Yes," said Bartre. "I don't think my memory of that incident will leave me alone…"

"Do not dwell on a lost opportunity." A pat on Bartre's broad shoulders let the warrior know that everything was all right. "I do not want you to be unhappy. You do realize that."

"Yes," said Bartre.

"Are you happy here?" asked the swordsman.

"Yes," returned Bartre.

"Then there is nothing more to talk about," said Karel. "I will simply tell you that I will be here if you want to talk about her."

"Thank you," said Bartre, who finally sat up from his watching the brook.

In reality, Bartre realized he never had let go of Karla. However, he realized he never really had much of a chance to let go of the memory.

After all, he really did not have much of an understanding of how to let go…

* * *

The stars had begun to show their fires for the first time in what felt like ages. They had begun to shimmer in the night sky as they would have elsewhere. 

To look at the stars in a night where they had begun to reappear was a dream for Bartre. He had wished for the stars to reappear after Karla's death, and Saint Elimine had granted it.

He had grown very comfortable with Karel's company over the time it took to get the stars to shine as well. The warrior had expected the Sacaen to be a somewhat sly figure given the first impression he was given, but he was quite impressed that Karel had a lot of depth to his character.

Karel had also taken a liking to Bartre's friendly disposition, and so the two were becoming the best friends anybody could have been.

As these thoughts swam in his head, Bartre heard Karel's footfalls come up behind him. He had acquired an ear for Karel's footfalls, which were somewhat hard yet calculated and delicate. Bartre figured years of looking for a good fight had made his footsteps calculated to prepare for an attack from anybody.

Karel took a seat next to Bartre on the ground and looked up at the night's blackness.

"The stars are finally shining," said Karel. "It has been a while since we have seen stars on this continent."

"I know," said Bartre. "I wonder why they have remained hidden…"

"That is a subject that we may never know in our lifetimes," said Karel.

"True," said Bartre. "Such things always remain a mystery to men like us…"

"Yes," said Karel. "Some say that the stars shine depending on the states of a man's mind. Others believe that something beyond our control guides their very actions. Whatever theories men have, we may never know which among them is true."

"Yeah," said Bartre. "Unfortunately, most of the time people don't even take the time to look at the stars back in Lycia. They get so caught up in society that they forget to appreciate everything else."

"Yes," said Karel.

"That's one of the reasons Sacae is such a great place," said Bartre. "People here appreciate the little things for what they are worth, even if they are in times of suffering and turmoil. In a way, it's… consoling."

"You can call it that," said Karel. "We look to the earth to satisfy our pleasures when we are in a time of trouble. It is ever bountiful in our eyes, and we cherish it with all our heart."

"I can see why," said Bartre. "It must be a wonderful life if everything is so simple."

"It is," said Karel. "You seem to have attached yourself to the Sacaen way of life."

"Well, I've been living her for a few weeks now," said Bartre. "I have begun to get used to it."

"True, true," said Karel.

True as it was, the larger man could not help but feel they were both part of more than one thing.

Whatever this other thing was, Bartre was sure that it would prove Dorcas correct…

* * *

Karel had no regrets about returning to Sacae with Bartre. After all, what was there to regret when one had just returned to a homeland with a friend who understood what was happening? 

The swordsman had no reason to complain; Bartre kept very good company, and he was as close to Sacae as one could ask considering he grew up in a different country.

Karel had noticed that a change had begun to work into Bartre's character. The depth of the change was definite, as Bartre had begun to shrink into himself in thought as the days passed.

Whenever this happened, Karel always wondered if it was because Bartre felt the same way the swordsman did about the warrior.

Karel loved the axe-wielder. There was plenty of cultural taboo on love between two men, but nevertheless Karel felt the feelings that many elders attempted to condemn as incorrect. The swordsman had been defying Sacaen culture in terms of battling men many times, so to him, one more felony against culture never could hurt.

The larger man's physique was definitely something that would attract any person to the warrior, but it was ultimately his usually cheery disposition that had won Karel over. The man was very good company and always spoke good thoughts about many things. Karel liked this in a man, and so he was won over.

However, Karel knew that he had to know if Bartre was feeling the same way. And unfortunately for the swordsman, he knew that Bartre had fallen in love with Karla beforehand; this in turn told Karel that the warrior might not be able to feel the same way Karel did.

The swordsman also knew it was useless to not to think that perhaps Bartre had loved her because of who she was, so he clung to that and hoped that the warrior could love whomever he wanted to.

Of course, this was all a matter of speculation.

Matters of speculation were dangerous, especially for the Sacaen swordsman.

Therefore, the swordsman made sure to lie in wait, ready to spring if Bartre said anything.

After all, anything was acceptable as far as love was concerned.

* * *

Bartre sat at the edge of the stream, his nude body warming against the sun. His somewhat troubled thoughts swam around his head in large circles that were evading the warrior as best as they could. 

The warrior had figured out that he had fallen in love with Karel. However, following this was a long train of doubt and a very long train of his logic telling the larger man that these feelings were not correct.

Bartre had figured that there were too many questions associated with the love. After all, he obviously asked himself if Karel loved him too and if he was doing the wrong thing by being in love with him.

Aside from the obvious questions, however, there was one really big pang in his mind.

This was about Dorcas and the statement he had made to Bartre before he left for Sacae.

With this love for Karel, Bartre found himself to be a slightly different man than before. He found himself getting more aggressive towards other people, and he also found himself withdrawing from people, just as the swordsman had been before the ordeal in Elibe occurred. As if to accentuate a point, Karel had been showing very few signs of change over the course of the past few weeks, as if mocking the fact that something was happening to Bartre.

The warrior was scared about what this had meant, for it meant that Dorcas had been correct and that Bartre was failing his former friend without having a clue on how to stop it.

This disconcerted the warrior quite a bit, as he was one to fulfill promises to friends. That night when he left Lycia forever, he felt as if had promised to Dorcas he would overcome what would happen. He decided he needed to talk to Karel, and yet he could not bring himself to do so.

And thus, he sat at the edge of the river, waiting for what would come next.

He felt Karel's ever so familiar footfalls approach the brook, and then the corners of his eyes saw Karel's form sit on the brook next to the warrior, his robes getting a little wet in the brook.

"Is something wrong?" asked Karel.

"I don't know," said Bartre. "I have a lot on my mind…"

"Really now?" asked the swordsman. "What is it?"

"I don't know," said Bartre. "You know the feeling you get when you take part in something yet you know that something is wrong?"

"Yes," said Karel. "But why does that apply to you?"

"Because I feel it a little myself," said Bartre. "The feeling has been bugging me for the past few weeks now. I don't know what to do…"

"If you really feel that way, what use does thinking have?" asked Karel.

"I try to sort it out by thought, but I can't seem to figure it out…" said Bartre.

"I would rather act on impulse…" said the swordsman. "After all, sometimes thought can't solve everything. Perhaps it would be better if you acted on your thoughts…"

This last comment did it for the warrior, for then Bartre took one look at the swordsman before lunging onto the smaller man, forcing a passionate kiss onto the smaller man's lips as Karel was caught between the ground and Bartre..

This action startled Karel beyond belief; however, it startled the swordsman in a good way. This told him that they were both feeling the same thing towards each other, and that they would both be happy.

Therefore, it came to Bartre's great surprise that Karel kissed him back.

They remained in this position for what felt like an eternity as their tongues explored the caverns of the other person's mouth, savoring the flavor and the texture of the other man. Occasionally both of them would moan lightly into the other in pure pleasure.

Finally, though, the kiss had to be broken, and when it was, Bartre looked lustfully into Karel's eyes.

"Well, I guess we both thought the same," said Karel. "Are you happy?"

"Yes," said Bartre.

"Then I think we will make perfect company, yes?" asked the swordsman.

"Quite so," said Bartre.

The larger man went back to Karel's mouth for another kiss as he lifted the smaller man's robe from the skin it was covering.

As the two men kissed, Bartre felt himself harden against Karel's naked thighs. This feeling made the warrior realize how much he wanted to have the swordsman, and how badly he felt he needed it.

However, he would not have wanted to hurt Karel if he decided towards it. Bartre broke the kiss as he looked into the swordsman's eyes, pleading if it was okay to go farther.

The swordsman chuckled and nodded, opening up his legs as he did so to expose his entrance to the world. Bartre positioned himself, his length just touching the doorway of Karel's nether regions.

"This is going to hurt." This comment from Bartre broke the silence. Karel looked up with lust-ridden eyes.

"Are you happy?" asked the swordsman.

Bartre nodded.

"Then there is nothing else to be said," said the swordsman.

The warrior was usually pretty good with following directions, so he took this as a cue to continue.

Thus, Bartre slowly began to slide his length into Karel as the smaller man hid his discomfort as best as possible.

Once the warrior was all the way in, Karel let out a deep breath, and Bartre nipped the swordsman's neck playfully.

"We have plenty of time," said Bartre.

And Bartre waited for the smaller man to be adjusted to the feeling of being penetrated. Eventually, Karel nodded his head.

The larger man nodded back and retreated his hips out and bringing them back to Karel.

Bartre kept this slow pace for a short while, during which Karel had begun to moan, first in pain and then in pleasure. When Karel's moans had begun to escalate, Bartre picked up the pace and began moaning himself.

Within a short time frame, the brook reverberated with their moans and cries of pleasure. Bartre kept up his brutal rhythm as Karel gladly took it all in. Love fueled their making of love, and their making of love added wood to the fire of their love.

Eventually, Bartre cried out particularly loudly, after which Karel felt a warm liquid erupt in his insides. This brougth the swordsman over the edge of ecstasy, as he too released onto thier bellies.

Bartre fell onto Karel's body, their sweat mixing and their pants becoming one.

Eventually, though, Karel moved to kiss Bartre again.

The warrior glady yielded as he opened his mouth to let Karel in.

* * *

The stars were shining in their full brilliance that night. Not some stars, not most of the stars, or not even a few stars. All of them were shining brilliantly. 

Bartre lay next to Karel, the plains of Sacae as their mattress, the canvas of a tent as their guardian, and the fine cloth of their bed sheets as the only cover of their unity to the outside world. Their clothes lay off to the side inside of the tent, along with the supplies they were using to survive the plains.

Bartre's powerful arms were wrapped around Karel's sleeping form as the larger man's actions showed a perfect unison with those of Karel. The two of them were having the most pleasant dreams that one could have asked for.

The warrior in particular was content in his dreams; after all, he had found a new love to share his experiences with, and this time there was no apparent danger that would take him away. The love he shared may have been shunned by society, but he did not care at all. As long as he was with the one he would be happy with for the rest of his life, the warrior really did not care what other people said of them; he would never leave Karel, and that was that.

Karel was also content, for he had consoled the man who had loved his sister and found love in him as well. He was also in his homeland, and he had been respected as a saint and not as a demon after his transformation that people had at first not noticed. Of course, his reputation would be lessened if anybody found out Karel was in love with a man, but just as the warrior failed to care what society would think, the swordsman never thought about caring either. Bartre would be the man he would always love, and in Karel's mind nothing could change it.

Whenever Bartre was awake, he would often think to himself about what Dorcas had told him. Whenever he turned the sentences in his head, he would know that his former friend had the right idea.

However, this change was for the better, as both warrior and sword master were content with each other.

And change for the better was always good, as it ever will be…

* * *

A/N: And that's that!

I hope you enjoyed! Review, and make sure to check out some of my other works if you liked this!

-Herr Wozzeck


End file.
